


Trouble

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Pitch has been in love with Jack for centuries. The problem is, he’s actually quite a shy guy when it comes to expressing emotion. I just want to see Pitch having attempted to woo Jack over the years, and not wanting to just be all: “Sex. You. Me. Now.” (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) However, when you’re the Boogeyman, it’s kind of in your nature to be a bit overdramatic, and so things don’t always turn out quite as Pitch intended.Bonus:* He hates Tooth and the baby teeth so much because they fawn all over Jack all the time.* Jack literally has no idea.* Or he totally knows."You know, for some reason I read this and thought specifically of courting gifts. Pitch offers Jack some, you know, little things, pre-movie. Like the sky and the ability to be alone. And actually it turns out all right? I mean sort of.
Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44
Collections: Blackice Short Fics





	Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 4/14/2014.

His name is Jack Frost, and for him the nights are always clear. Though a bringer of snow, for him the night is never fully muffled by a thick blanket of clouds, and not just because he can fly through and above them to the wilder, colder air between clouds and stars. For though he could fly through, he need not. Always, when he dips below the clouds, can he find a tear in the fabric of the clouds, a gate from the world he loves but cannot be a part of to a world that, as far as he can tell, is his alone.  
  
The night sky is never lost to him, the smooth black of the space beyond the stars clearer and more comforting than that which waits behind his eyelids. In it, the stars seem to glimmer like chips of his own ice, never-melting, never-changing, not relying on the moon for their faint light in their slow, luminous, harmonious turn across the sky. He spends much time above the clouds when they are there, and when the nights are clear for all he takes himself to places far from any humans, high places, and lets himself drown in a night sky he’s begun to claim as his own.  
  
He wasn’t always able to seek out such places. Something—a longing, an instinct, some force to make up for the missing pull of gravity—had drawn him, in the time after he had woken, always to places full of people. He would escape a village to find himself in a town, a town to find himself in a city, and a city to find himself, unsuccessful to the last, near a single homestead. Though he loved to see the people there, the fact that he must always draw so near and yet remain silent and unseen became almost too much to bear.  
  
And then one night he had woken from uneasy sleep wanting nothing but to run, run far away from everything and everyone, and though he knew it would not work he couldn’t stop himself from trying. When he stopped, he looked at the stars overhead and the landscape around him, and realized he was finally alone, comprehensibly alone, in a six-month night he could stay in, painlessly, solidly, under the stars. Something had severed his tie to the world of laughter he could see but never touch. Though his sleep was still troubled as he rested under the Antarctic stars, his tossing and turning and waking did not bother him as they had, waking him among unknowable others.  
  
The trouble knew him, at least.  
  
In a lonely place, he meets that trouble standing between him and the shortest way back to the nearest town, a tall, thin, man like a black spire against the stars.  
  
“Are you glad to be alone?” he asks.  
  
Jack doesn’t question his seeing him. It might waste precious time. “It’s better than being where it’s too crowded,” he says. “But no, I’m not glad to be alone.”  
  
“Neither am I,” says the man. “But I do not like crowds either. It took me a long time to learn to avoid them.”  
  
“I didn’t learn, it just happened for me…no.” Jack peers closely at the man. He looks like troubled sleep. “It was a gift.”  
  
“I don’t have much to give,” the man says. “My company is the last gift. Will that be all right?”  
  
Jack pauses for a moment, then smiles. “Yes. Yes, it will.”


End file.
